


Days Long Remembered

by primeideal



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Extra Treat, Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-06-30 08:25:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15747972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/pseuds/primeideal
Summary: Always in motion, the future is. Sometimes, it moves to the present.Or, Darth Vader gets more than he bargained for when he tries to interrogate Princess Leia on the Death Star.





	Days Long Remembered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AceQueenKing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/gifts).



> This was an epic prompt and has been used for many more epic fics; this is just a little snippet of how I might write this universe, but I hope it's to your liking. :)

Darth Vader entered the prisoner’s cell, an Imperial mind probe at his side. It was a crude piece of technology, he thought; he did not want to destroy her beyond ability to negotiate, and the Force was entirely more subtle than any metal handiwork. Nevertheless, it intimidated those foolish enough to oppose the Empire, which was reason enough to bring it along.

“And now, your Highness,” he intoned, “we will discuss the location of your hidden rebel base.”

“I’ll never give them up,” rasped Organa. “Never—”

But as the door closed behind him, he saw her gasp for breath, collapsing to her knees and blinking as if in shock. He had not even begun to pressure her, and she gave way so soon? At least the rebels above Scarif had offered some resistance, pointless though it had been. The young royal was no match for their courage.

A pity. He had thought Alderaan a bit stronger.

“This is a vision,” she stammered, not rising from the sterile floor. “A dream. You’re not real, you’re not...”

“I ensure you, your Highness, I am quite real.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said, shivering.

Vader had no capacity to display surprise. “Very well, Senator Organa.”

The woman began pinching herself, her body frail below the impractical gown she wore as a travelling garment. When this produced no change in her status, she began slapping her legs lightly.

“By all means continue to injure yourself,” said Vader. “It will surely accelerate the work of our droids.”

“Who are you?” she asked. “What are you?”

“I am the right hand of the Empire.”

“There is no Empire,” she said. “You’re a miserable old person, nostalgic for terror.”

“Your flimsy attempts at pretending this is a political shuttle are risible. I did not know you had lapsed into insanity as well.”

She slowly rose to her feet, remaining silent. And then a quiet blossoming grew in the Force, like the short pallie tree taking root in the sands. Her mind pushed outwards, abutting his, and not yielding. Whatever Leia Organa was—and she was not just a Senator, that much was clear—she was quite sane.

“The Emperor will be most curious to meet you,” he said. “You will find true strength in the Dark Side.”

“Of course not,” she said. “I’ll die before I turn.”

“Bold words for one so young.”

That made her turn away, if only for a moment. “I would have thought you know better than to judge by outward appearances.”

“Such as your ship’s semblance of neutrality?”

“Such as the fact that I’m fifty years old.”

Jedi mind tricks had no hope of working on him, of course, yet all the same Vader was unsure whether to deem this more ravings or some cryptic half-truth. “I hear time dilation does wonders for one’s health.”

“No riddles, Vader. My memories, my presence in the Force, my self—they all come from twenty...twenty-seven years after your Empire’s collapse.”

“I don’t know who you are, or how you escaped the Emperor’s reach—” Was that a flicker of _amusement_ from her? “—but your soothsaying doesn’t scare me.”

“Well, your mask doesn’t scare me, either. That’s better than before.”

Before what? “Even if you were some sort of futuristic Jedi, what are you doing here?”

“I haven’t the first idea,” said Organa quietly. “If you find out, please let me know.”

He stepped back. It was all a distraction, a whirlpool in the Force that did not change the trajectory of real space. “Your memories still seem sensible to me. Let us speak of your allies.”

“You know that droid will not break me.”

“You are wise,” he said, checking himself before adding a _young one_. “The power of the Force is a match for any lifeless tool.”

“For someone who looks down upon machines,” she began, and he steeled himself for a jab at his cyborg form, “You put plenty of trust in this battle station.”

“For someone who claims the Empire is no more, you are a prisoner here.”

“I am?” she asked, and her voice had the taunting, flippant echo of youth despite it all. “What are you?”

Images raced through his head, and it was all he could do to guard his mind from her. The agonizing rituals he endured just to cling to life. His wife and child, dead after he’d lashed out. Palpatine’s control, sending him off to take orders from officers like Tarkin. The bleakness of the Outer Rim, where the Hutts’ slavery had grown ever more profitable.

“Are you free,” she challenged, “Anakin Skywalker?”

Instinctively, he turned his lightsaber on, but she did not move.

The princess—Jedi—voyager was trying to bait him. Get him to kill her, and prevent her from betraying the foolish rebels. His breathing even more labored than usual, Vader extinguished the saber’s blade.

“I’ll take that as a no,” she said coolly.

“This station can wipe out a planet. Your world, your parents, everything you’ve fought for and loved, will be vaporized when Tarkin gives the order.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think they will.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Because I think you want another chance at life, and the Force,” said Organa. “And I can help you find it.”

* * *

On Alderaan it was raining. Raining!

Ben—Obi-Wan—Kenobi didn’t seem too impressed by the weather, even though he’d been living on dessicate Tatooine for as long as Luke could remember. Captain Solo grumbled about it; he had the look of someone who’d seen planet after planet and didn’t care how many suns rose or fell. Chewbacca at least had the decency to grin at the puddles outside the Royal Palace. At least, Luke thought it was a grin. You couldn’t be too sure with Wookiees.

Amid all the glamor of the capital—the flowers! the hovertrams! the offworlders in deoxygenated masks and gravitational boosters!—Viceroy Organa seemed anticlimactic. He did not particularly resemble his daughter from the hologram, and he did not seem to know what to do with Kenobi despite the urgent summons.

“What matters most now is getting this R2 unit to our allies,” he said. “It is urgent that his data be restored.”

“I didn’t sign up to head into hostile territory,” said Solo. “We’re gonna need to change up the deal some more if you want me to be your private courier.”

The Viceroy gave a small smile. “You have done us a great service, Captain. We will honor both your safety and your contract. Breha?”

“Yes?” said the Queen.

“Will you see to Captain Solo’s finances? And Chewbacca’s, of course.”

Solo gaped for a moment, perhaps not having anticipated doing business with a monarch, but quickly hid it within his usual nonchalance. Chewbacca stepped forward as if to embrace the queen, then compared their sizes, and instead stuck out his paw for a warm handshake.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” said Luke to Ben. “There’s nothing for me on Tatooine. I want to learn from you, and if I can help the Alliance, I’ll go.”

“The life of a Jedi is not easy,” Ben said. “Many good and brave warriors have fallen victim to the wielders of evil. Even more terrible is the fate of those who fall to the lure of the Dark Side.”

“Excuse me,” said the Viceroy, attending to a computer screen.

“Pardon me,” Luke said. Was one supposed to bow? How did you address a statesman? “If this is kind of mystical, we can shut up...”

“I don’t mind,” Organa said. “I have some business of my own to attend to, that’s all.”

He hurried out of the reception hall, and Luke noticed a pair of uniformed bureaucrats tail him. One had been tending to a window box moments before. The ground was so rich, people could grow flowers outside buildings for the sheer beauty of it. Were they security? Diplomats? Just on the lookout for other flowers?

“I thought the farm was safe,” Luke pointed out. “But it turns out we had more to fear from the Empire than from Krayt dragons. Or would you rather I try to join the Imperial Academy?”

Ben ignored the jibe, wandering over to the flowers and taking in the view. Even in the rain, it was possible to make out the shape of the imposing mountains beyond. The palace was situated on the lower plains, however: on a level with Alderaan’s people.

“Were you born here?” Luke asked.

“What?”

“The hologram, the Viceroy’s daughter said you knew him in the wars.” It still felt strange to think of crazy old Ben Kenobi as a decorated veteran. “Are you from Alderaan too?”

“No. I grew up on Coruscant, or whatever the Empire’s calling it now.” He hesitated slightly before adding “And so did many of my fellow Jedi.”

Luke had seen plenty of holos of the capital: gargantuan skyscrapers, hovering transports, rings of hyperspace launchers orbiting nearby. “Doesn’t seem like there’s enough space to swing a sword.”

“We made do,” said Ben, his eyes radiating humor.

A third guard, if that was what they were, escorted Solo and Chewbacca back into the hall. Organa and his coterie emerged shortly after. “I have welcome and disturbing news,” he said.

“Give us the worst,” Ben said, “and get it out of the way.”

“That may not be entirely practical in this case. The relief stems from the fact that my daughter, Princess Leia, has returned safely. When we lost contact with her ship, we feared the worst.”

“Wonderful!” Luke exclaimed. She had captivated him from the moment her image first flickered into light. Not in the way Laze and Biggs had been captivated by the women and men of Anchorhead, but as a fearless voice that had sounded in the chambers of the Senate and, somehow, echoed all the way to remote Tatooine. “We’re happy for you.”

“Unfortunately,” Organa went on, “she has suffered in spirit—both at the hands of the Empire and from some unknown, ill power. Master Kenobi, if you might speak to her alone? Perhaps your knowledge of the Force might be able to explain more as to how this came to be.”

“I will do what I can,” said Ben. “But it has been many years since I called upon the Force, and there are many woes it cannot cure.”

Luke eyed him. What Ben had tried to show him onboard the _Millennium Falcon_ seemed to be tricks for self-defense, apprehending the space around him he could not sense directly. Was the Force a branch of medicine, too? What else?

“Perhaps,” Ben continued, “we could discuss on route to your base? I may accompany Luke, here.”

“If Luke wishes to join us, he is certainly welcome,” said Organa. “But Leia tells me she was hoping you would proceed to the Dagobah system. There is a matter of some importance there.”

“Dagobah?” Ben echoed.

“Her words, not mine.”

Ben gave a long pause, then heaved a sigh. “I’ll speak with her.”

“Very well,” said Organa. “Neftal? If you could guide Master Kenobi…?” One of the guards snapped to attention and led Ben down the hall.

“Not to butt in, and all,” said Solo, “but are you going to need another shuttle? I’ll go to this Dagobah of yours, if it’s not full of would-be heroes on some suicide mission.”

“I would not wish to expose you to any more risk than necessary,” said Organa. “You’re free to leave.”

Risk? “Is Ben going into danger?” Luke asked.

Organa paused. “I have never been to Dagobah myself. The climate, while perhaps unpleasant for humans, is perfectly hospitable. Much more tolerable than Tatooine’s heat.”

“But?”

“There is—are—exiles there, at ease neither under the Empire’s thumb nor with the Alliance. Kenobi may be an ambassador of peace, helping them to take their next steps. Or perhaps not. It’s his decision.”

Luke nodded.

“You look after yourself, kid,” said Han, and Chewbacca roared in agreement. “It’s a big galaxy out there.”

“I will!” said Luke. “Thank you, for everything.”

Chewbacca came over to enfold him in an enormous hug, which Han seemed to think was large enough to count for both of them. Then they headed towards the door, Luke watching them as his mind still tried to make sense of the sound of rain.

* * *

A disturbance in the Force wracked the galaxy. Kenobi shuddered, as much in awe as in fear. And behind his mask Vader felt his gaze fall on a sector of the sky that looked the same as all the others, gray behind Dagobah’s clouds.

“Hmm,” said Yoda. “Portend much change, this does.”

“Do you know what that was?” Kenobi asked.

“Not with certainty,” said Vader. “But the Emperor has been pouring much energy into the creation of a planet-killer.”

“So that was a _test_?”

“Destroyed in their pride, such marvels are,” said Yoda.

“You think the Empire’s battle station was just wiped out?” asked Vader. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

“Never a cause to rejoice, annihilation is. Even the annihilation of an enemy. Hmm?”

Vader privately considered the potential death of Tarkin and his shortsighted lackeys to be no great loss, but refrained from comment. Did that make him _their_ enemy? He told himself he was no servant of the Alliance, no tool of dreamers—yet neither were the lost Jedi who stood before him, trusting in his message of a future yet unseen.

Children, living! The Empire’s defeat! The Force transporting Organa through the decades! Next to that, even the downfall of Orson Krennic’s folly seemed plausible.

“Better the battle station than a system full of life,” said Kenobi.

Yoda waved his staff irritably. “Nine hundred years old, I am, and send me bickering children to chaperone, the Force does.”

“You are not one to speak of bickering children, Master Yoda,” Vader noted.

Kenobi shot him a look that recalled their earliest days at the Temple together, when he had seemed an adventuresome older brother chafing under the thumb of a wilted patriarch. “I have not met Leia yet. If she has anything of your spirit, however, I doubt she will shy away from a conflict.”

Was it only Vader’s imagination, or had _your_ included Padmé? “Yet?”

“Make this your home, you cannot,” said Yoda. “Healing you will need, if to embrace the Force with all your heart, you desire.” Vader’s annoyance must have been palpable, as he went on, “This air I breathe, this water I drink, this ground I tread. Ready to take this upon yourself, you are not.”

 _And whose fault is that_? Vader asked, turning to Kenobi who could not see him brimming with resentment behind the mask.

“Repentant in spirit, you may yet be,” Yoda went on. “Within you, hope already blooms! Yet dwell not so much on your future, that your present you neglect.”

“My future?” Vader echoed. “Can I not focus on my childrens’?” He realized that Organa—Leia—had not told him whether he lived in her time, nor had he asked. Had he died in service to the Empire? Been executed as a symbol of a forgotten past? Learned to live with his own flesh?

“Always in motion, the future is. Even moving to the present. Hmm?”

“I should return to my ship,” Vader demurred.

As he secured himself into his chamber for what boded to be an unquiet rest, he conceded that Yoda had a point. Dagobah was an excellent place to hide yourself if you were an aged master at one with nature; it was not a long-term habitat for a cyborg who required mechanical support at every moment. In the silence of his ship, Vader admitted that there was no one in the Empire he would trust to follow him into exile, even if he had more time than a few minutes to react to Leia’s revelations. But who in the Alliance would aid the Emperor’s right fist?

Despite his anxieties, he slept soundly, and woke to tell Yoda—for the sixth consecutive time—that he would not be joining him for a meal of nuts and berries. He remained in the ship less out of fondness for it than exasperation with the ancient master’s tangled syntax. It was only his third day in the swamp. What was he going to do with himself?

Before he could wallow in further self-pity, the comms channel buzzed. Quickly, he checked that his security updates had gone through. It could only be his daughter hailing him, and he did not hesitate to answer.

“Leia,” he said. “I am gratified to see you well.”

She glanced around the ship. “What time is it out there?” Then blinked, perhaps at the absurdity of the situation.

“You did not wake me.”

“All right. Well, we destroyed the Death Star.” She stared directly at him, no doubt goading him into a reaction.

“It was foolish to mount an attack on the battle station,” he said. “And very impressive.”

“I knew it would work. It did the first time.”

“All that we observe changes us as much as it does the galaxy. Do not grow complacent in your desire to recreate your future.”

“Who says I want to?”

Was she an Imperial sympathizer? Or merely mourning loved ones lost to the war? Her eyes flashed anger, and Vader decided against probing further.

“Anyway. Luke’s here. He wants to talk to you.” The tone of her voice suggested that she thought little of that wish.”

But his son lived. His son, having beheld nothing of life without the Empire, wished to speak to him even as he was. Surely there had to be something true and noble, in that longing for attachment?

“Whenever he is ready,” Vader said. “Social life on Dagobah is not exactly strenuous on one’s schedule.”

She nearly smiled as she stepped away from the screen. Her end of the connection was a drab meeting room that looked much like any Imperial bureaucracy, except less well-maintained. No chance of pinpointing the location, then. He had no doubt even the teenage Leia Organa would have been just as vigilant.

And then, a few moments later, a short, blond man approached. Vader suppressed his recognition at the features that so resembled his younger self, fair-headed under the unrelenting Tatooine suns. “Are you Anakin Skywalker?” the man—Luke—asked.

“That was once my name.” In some ways it had been easier with Leia; he was supposed to be in control of the situation, until he was not. But no matter how much he tried to brace himself, there could be no preparing for this.

“They told me you were dead.”

“They said the same of you.”

Luke seemed confused, but went on. “I’m not like Leia. I’m not a politician, or a Jedi, or a time-traveller.”

“No one expects you to be.”

“Everyone here has a dozen stories of Darth Vader—your weapons, your ship, the things you’ve done. On Tatooine I’d never even heard of you. I mean, Vader, I mean...” He trailed off.

“I am sure your guardians meant well.”

Luke bristled at that. Had Kenobi not raised him? Leia had told him so little, in comparison to the lives his son and especially his daughter must have lived. “I know it’s not safe for me to go wherever you are. Or for you to come here, not yet. I think we’re probably not staying, uh, here. But I want to be able to. Someday. Is that okay?”

What little hope lived within him could only be a few sparks in contrast with his son’s fire. Yes, Leia needed Luke to temper the darkness of whatever she had endured, and he needed her guidance just as much. “I will see what I can do. It is not easy to loosen one’s grip on the Dark Side of the Force.”

“I guess it’s probably not easy to go back in time,” Luke said guilelessly. “So try. Please?”

“I will,” said Vader. “What has your sister told you?”

Luke gave a smile at _your sister_ , then grew pensive. “Not very much. Viceroy Organa told me most of what I know, on the flight out here. I think it’s still hard for her to talk about it.”

Vader nodded. “Take care, my son. It may not be impossible to resist the Emperor, but it is never easy.”

“I will. Father.”

Some part of Vader—of _Anakin—_ thrilled to hear that.

“May I ask you a question?”

“You may. But know I may not be able to answer fully, or at all.”

Luke blushed slightly. “Is it true you were a pilot?”

“I was.” Was still, if he let himself reflect; the occasions when he had gotten to command a TIE Fighter on Imperial business were rare, but no less welcome.

“Wow! I had a T-16 back on Tatooine, I used to race it through Beggar’s Canyon. You know where that is?”

The memories of Anakin Skywalker threatened to overwhelm him once again. “I came from a different part of the planet.”

Luke took that in, pausing for a moment and seeming to scrutinize his father’s mask. Surely the Empire had not gotten around to stamping out slavery in the Outer Rim? Yet he had the accent and the joy of a freeborn child. “Okay. Well, I should probably go, but I’ll call again. Soon. And if Leia gets mad, well, I’ll fight her, that’s what brothers are for, right?”

“I suppose so. May the Force be with you.”

“Yeah! Ben, uh, Obi-Wan, said I could learn to use the Force, but I’m not sure I’m doing very well? Sometimes I can sort of guess where balls are going to be, but that’s just kind of dumb luck. And I definitely can’t wield a lightsaber.”

So Kenobi, or whatever he was calling himself, was not one for formal farewells. “Obi-Wan should know well that you are never too old to learn.” Or if he didn’t, Yoda was probably haranguing him about how he was still cataloging the diversity of pond scum at the age of nine-hundred-and-something.

“All right. Well, neither is Leia. Or you.” Luke grinned, and then his image faded from the encrypted channels.

Anakin slowly made his way outside. Nuts and berries were pushing it a step far, but perhaps he could tolerate Yoda’s rambles for another day.


End file.
